Well us old folk of the Senior Citizens Club ( et al, Mangell6, Snuffles, and me of course. Our other tool - err member, Eric was unable to attend) convened for a ride today, and we got a cracker of a day, some brilliant roads, a little bit of drama and some female company to teach us some new swear words... err I mean make us behave better.
Because us old fellas have to get up hourly to pee all night, generally by 6 am we've had enough of up down, up down stuff, which is why we always meet up at 8:15am. Her B4 was desperate to take her new ride out and lept at the chance to go for a ride with us, despite the threat of urinary incontinence threatened by her riding "mates".
I'd managed to arrive on time for a change (I usually forget stuff and have to do a couple of return trips to get things, like the armour for my trousers, earplugs, and the rear seat.) and gassed up when I heard the unmistakable sound of a Ducati slowing - about 100M short of the gas station. Looks like Her B4's heading into the Rimutaka Tavern. No - she's being assaulted by a duck. Seriously, and all bad puns aside, the little quacking Al Qaeda operative waited until the very last moment to leap in front of the yellow Duc, and then ran hither and thither in front of Her B4's 748. Being all nice and stuff she braked and tried to miss it. Unfortunately she succeeded so it looked like we'd have to buy breakfast.
As you can see Her B4's 748 is an absolute cracker, and she had to point the damage from her "indiscretion". I particularly like the Ducati Corse strip and stickers that flow through from mudguard to radiator shroud. Classy!
I had an absolute blinder over the Takas. No traffic, beautiful day, a little bit of wind but not too drastic - bloody perfect again in other words. I don't think the traffic was as kind to the others and I had a fair old wait in Featherston for everyone to catch up. The vans and trucks I'd managed to get past in easy spots had all clumped together by the time the others caught up to them, which was a bit of a bugger given the lovely conditions. The reseal job on the Wairarapa side is just fanatastic. Smooth and grippy tarmac rather than coarse chip, which means you can brake and accelerate much harder.
We managed to gain another rider at Caltex Upper Hutt (Drew I think he said he was his name - memory like a 90 year old colon - all runny and constantly getting left behind) on a GPZ600R, which I must say was in remarkably good nick, and he joined us for breakfast at Wild Oats in Carterton.
We dawdled up to Masterton, gassed up again (bloody Ducatis) and headed out. I got to the first round about when I realised I left my Drink Bottle and wallet on the pump at the gas station. I retrieved them and set off after the others. I caught glimpses of them off in the distance as they headed down the road to Alfredton, but little did I know that a crucial intersection had been changed. By the time I realised I'd headed for Bideford instead of Alfredton (it was a bit hard to read the signs officer) they'd obviously extended well beyond any hope of catching up. I retraced my mistaken route, discovered that you CAN "drift" at low speed given enough pea gravel, and caught up just as they stopped to look for me.
I followed along behind and Her B4 just got quicker and tidier as the K's rolled along. The 748's laser sharp steering meant she kept turning in a bit soon, but even that improved really quickly. She's not slow, so Lynda better work on staying the quickest Ducati riding female in Wellington. November 28th, eh ladies?
Pretty soon I was unable to observe much thanks to a a charming short phase dip (too big to be called a pothole) in the road that dropped the bike from under me, and then slammed it upward just as I dropped down. I honestly didn't know you could squirt tears like that. Bugs on the outside of the visor and a fine salty haze on the inside. By the time we stopped at Alfredton (a school, a house, and an attack labrador) my voice had returned to its normal pitch and I could breathe properly again. At this point we decided that Pongaroa was probably a bit far away given our level of decrepitude, and decided to sneak into Pahiatua for lunch via Pa Road.
Most of the storm damage has been repaired but the work has left quite a bit of dirt on the road, and the road has been undermined in places making for some odd dips and hollows. Needless to say the next short phased dip actually drove my testicles into my abdomen. If you thought getting smacked in the nads was painful try extracting them from somewhwre they shouldn't be, whilst riding and trying to concentrate enough to actually follow the road. When we got to Pahiatua, I had the distinct impression that people thought I was walking "funny" because my arse was sore. Close. No cigar.
Bandit riders. Something about them makes you expect them to flick a lever and have their bike go into Lazy Boy mode, complete with recline mode and foot rest, followed by the ritual opening of the flip up helmet, the pipe smoking, and a glass of Port. They're all smug bastards too. "Oh, is your poor widdle bottom a bit sore? I can still feel my bottom. I fact you can feel my bottom if you want". Snuffles has been a smug bastard ever since he traded the CBR600 for the Bandit, though he did redeem himself by almost tricking Mangell into paying for lunch.
After lunch we planned to head back to Wellington via Mangamaire - Pahiatua Track - Shannon - Levin. Snuffles and I pulled away from outside the Black Stump Cafe, unaware that poor old Her B4 had lost the indicator cover that had been damaged in the topple over and I think it all got a bit much. By the time her, Mangell, and et al (gentlemen by the way - they hung about to give succour while me and Bandit Bastard disappeared into the distance) got away again Snuffles had finished a couple of ciggys ("I only bought this Nolan flip front so I could stop and smoke without taking my helmet off".) so we went back to gather them up, only to see Her B4 heading towards us. Doing a little dance wasn't enough to get her attention, and being a couple of blithering idiots, Snuffles and I didn't turn around until we saw Mangell and et al. We sorted out what had happened, Mangell headed off to track Her B4 down, and the remaining 3 of us headed off to Shannon.
We met up with Mooch's wife Ange, and Mangell's wife Theresa, in Shannon and only had to wait 20 minutes for Mangell and Her B4 to turn up.
Traffic back to Wellington was mind numbingly heavy, but I think we all had a good day, Her B4 began the process of getting to grips with her new toy, and I think I managed to avoid paying for a vastectomy.
Now if I can only coax the other testicle down.
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Originally Posted by et al
They go quicker than you'd expect, and will stop to help you find stuff you drop, like limbs and teeth.
Although it's my bike that sheds stuff ... :spudwhat: having said that I have been known to lose my mind on occasions .... 
Damn it sounds like you guys had a good one ... I thought I might have been able to escape for while today and find ya all but my in-laws wouldn't have the girls .... bummer !! But next time I will have a go at meeting you in Masterton ...
I am a bit of a rocketship these days ... errrr, ummmm or should that be a loose cannon.... 
A snob?? Yeah right! ha ha ha 
Nice one
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